


Cake

by Lost_Elf



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Cake, Food Play, I simply give Jack all the weird kinks, M/M, NO feeding kink in this one, Rhys is Handsome Jack's Personal Assistant, SPOILER: Jack mashes Rhys' face into a cake as a foreplay, that 'bout sums it up tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:07:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27289132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Elf/pseuds/Lost_Elf
Summary: Rhys wanted to celebrate his accomplishment, but as it turns out, Handsome Jackreallydoesn't like cakes.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Kudos: 27





	Cake

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know.
> 
> Just want to make content again, so I'm posting another crac.
> 
> Inspired by [this picture](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/763508941199376406/771722826372743198/unknown.png). (Also works pretty much as a summary.)

The lack of laughter from Jack is like a cold shower for Rhys. After months of working directly for the CEO, he is attuned to his moods, always knowing how to act in his presence. But with no reaction from Jack at all, not a twitch of muscle to hint him what is going on in the boss’s head, Rhys is lost and strangely powerless. All his senses are suddenly sharp, tuned to Jack, trying to get something to—

“Aah!” Rhys yelps in pain. With all his focus on Jack’s face, Jack’s breathing and his mood, he didn’t notice in time when the CEO moved, spinning Rhys around in practised motion while already grabbing the wrist of his left arm and twisting it. Before he knows it, Rhys is painfully immobilised and helpless at the older man’s mercy.

Distantly, Rhys notes that he should be much more panicked, but instead, he stills, continuing to try to gauge Jack’s mood. The CEO could pull his gun out with his free hand and shoot him, or he could simply snap Rhys’ neck, but the PA isn’t scared, just highly confused.

Rhys’ breath hitches when Jack presses closer to him, pulling him back with the grip on his wrist, so Rhys is forced to lean against him unless he wants to topple to the ground. He can feel Jack’s breath on the side of his face when he speaks, right into his ear.

“What… the hell… is that, Pumpkin?” he grinds through his teeth, each word accompanied by a firmer squeeze of his hand.

The PA gulps, trying to keep calm. “A cake, sir,” he answers, his voice betraying only a hint of his emotions. “Today it is exactly one year—”

“What a thoughtful gift!” Jack talks right over him. “But I don’t like cakes.”

“Oh,” Rhys breathes out, confused. Jack likes everything that is sweet, but it is true that the PA had never seen him eat cake. But he can’t possibly hate cake that much, right? Everybody loves cake!

Okay, maybe it was really a stupid idea. Rhys just thought that the fact that he survived one year working for Jack should be celebrated. Especially since they only started occasionally fucking two months ago, so he could say that he didn’t even use his body to his advantage. He is now officially Jack’s best and the longest lasting personal assistant.

“Well…” Jack hums, as if expecting Rhys to know what to do by now.

“I’m… sorry, sir?” the PA tries, unsure.

The CEO behind him chuckles. “Nu-uh, that’s not enough.”

A chuckle is good. Means Jack is probably just tormenting Rhys. Means this situation can probably be saved if Rhys can just…

The PA attempts to push his ass just a little bit back, try to grind against his boss’s cock, but Jack moves away. “Nope, you’ll get to make it up to me later. Now you gotta clean up your mess.”

Oh. Is it possible to hate cake so much that you decline a blatant sex offer unless the cake is removed? Rhys rethinks all his moral values.

Preoccupied by his internal crisis, he is not ready for Jack to push him to his knees using the grip on his arm. He lands with a yelp, his right arm flailing to help him find balance. Fortunately, Jack lets go of his other arm, too, and allows Rhys to settle on his shins, at full attention but a little relieved, now that their interaction has entered familiar grounds.

That relief flies right out of an airlock, though, when Jack places the plate with the whole cake in front of Rhys. _‘Thanks for tolerating me!’_ says the pink frosting in pretty letters.

Briefly, Rhys thinks that he has it all figured out. Jack’s long list of kinks comes to mind, _stuffing kink_ among them. He made Rhys eat a basket full of cupcakes once, so maybe he would have to eat cake now. That is Rhys’ favourite form of clean-up, honestly.

But then Jack stands behind him again, his hand returning to Rhys’ wrist and twisting his arm again. The other hand grips his hair, and Rhys realises how terribly he had miscalculated mere millisecond before Jack pushes his face right into the cake.

It is sticky and a little bit more solid than expected when it makes contact with Rhys’ face. He fights the motion reflexively, but Jack straddles his hips, pushing him further down until Rhys is laying on his stomach with his face smashed into a cake.

“ _Wow_ , suddenly, it is hundred percent less annoying!” Jack says with audible amusement, not bothering to pretend any longer. He angles his hips, so his growing erection presses into Rhys’ thigh.

“I hate you,” the PA attempts to say, only to be reminded why he postponed opening his mouth. It is immediately filled with crumbs of cake and frosting, and his words came out muffled and incomprehensible.

“Sorry, what? I can’t hear you!” Jack laughs, pulling Rhys’ head up by his hair.

Dumbly, Rhys looks over his shoulder to glare at Jack. He doesn’t realise that he must look—

“Bwa-hahahaha!” the CEO hollers, tears appearing in the corners of his eyes. “You look— Oh God! You— You’ve got something on your face, babe!”

Huffing, Rhys makes a grimace, causing most of the bigger crumbs to fall off his face. He is ready to give Jack a piece of his mind, but when he feels the erection still pressing into his thigh, he gets a better idea. It is just one of Jack’s stupid kink games, after all. At least he’s not making Rhys wear cat ears and a fluffy tail.

Gaze still indignant, Rhys looks the CEO in the eyes while he sticks his tongue out as far as it will go and licks frosting off the top of his nose. He congratulates himself for the victory when Jack curses and stops laughing.

“Fuck, that has no right to be so…” The CEO trails off, and unfortunately for Rhys, also lets go off his hair. Not expecting to be released, the PA faceplants into the cake again. Jack doesn’t laugh, though, already tugging his pants and underwear down and pushing his fingers between the younger man’s ass cheeks.

An amused snort escapes the CEO’s mouth when he recognises the end of a butt plug and immediately starts tugging it out. Rhys huffs. So what that he came prepared, he wanted to celebrate! He tries to get his arms underneath himself to rise himself up, but Jack presses one hand to the back of his head, keeping him down.

Rhys at least manages to turn his head to the side, allowing him to breathe without eating cake. Just in time for Jack to push in, too. A surprised moan escapes the PA’s lips when he is filled and he relaxes, suddenly not minding the cake in his _ear_ (his _ear_ , now, for God’s sake!) at all.

“Yeah, uh,” Jack says while already thrusting deeper, “happy anniversary or something, Mr Strongfork.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ElfWriting).


End file.
